


Passage to Bolivia

by wsgoddess



Category: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:49:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wsgoddess/pseuds/wsgoddess





	Passage to Bolivia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deepdarkwaters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepdarkwaters/gifts).



Butch and Sundance finally pulled out of the stream three miles below their leap to freedom, sore and bruised. They swept at their tracks with a pine branch, moved away, carefully staying on rock as much as possible, until they got to a plateau of sun-warmed rock eroded to soft curves by millions of years of wind and water. There they stripped off wet clothes and spread them to dry. They collapsed onto the smooth bedrock, looked over at each other, and started laughing. Alive! They hugged and laughed until it hurt, and laughed some more, racking lungfuls of air swept up in adrenaline and amazement. As the laughter passed, the hug turned more serious. Warm breath on an ear, the knowledge that they had made it out of certain death, ignited a need to affirm that they were alive. Laughing turned to rutting, a rough fuck of need and relief. Spit and precum left something to be desired compared to grease, but neither of them lasted long enough for it to become overly painful. The went back to the river, rinsed off, and had to sweep their tracks again. Reluctantly, they put on warm, merely damp, clothing and set off walking.

"Etta's got a good head on her shoulders. She'd take care of herself after we're gone." Butch said, staring off into the distance.

There was a silence. "She would." Sundance said.

"Of course she would."

"Might be lonely."

"We might."

Sundance turned to look at Butch. "I meant, Etta."

"Of course. She'd be lonely."

"Should give her the choice."

"Well, OK, Sundance. You've convinced me. We should give her the choice."

There was another long silence. Sundance had been with Butch since long before he'd met Etta. The men had never seen a reason for sexual exclusivity. Since Butch had let Etta in without any objection, it never seemed right to turn around and stop messing around with him. Yet somehow Sundance had never found the right time or angle to bring it up with Etta. There was enough room in their lives here that it had never come up. He was glad of the attention that Butch paid to Etta; being supportive of it lightened the occasional feeling of guilt. Traveling together, though, it might be hard to give up what came natural with Butch, in order to maintain the pretense of monogamy with Etta.

"We'd make a good family." Butch volunteered.

"Would." Sundance's eyebrows raised. They walked in silence a while longer. Finally, "How?"

"We give her the choice."

Dusk came, miles later, as they staggered into the farmhouse yard and Etta's arms. Smoke rose from the familiar chimney into the still, silent, blue-gray sky. The easy way they formed a circle of three in the initial hug gave Sundance hope that Butch might have a point about which way Etta would choose, on both questions.

"They said you were dead."

"Don't make a big thing of it," he'd said; then, "On second thought, make a big thing of it," and held her close to him, never wanting to let go of this solid, humanizing, stable point in his life. Sometimes they lost touch with sanity in the wild excitement of Butch's plans, and it was good to have someone to bring him back down to earth. Hadn't expected to see her again, back there on the ledge. To have that second chance, warm and real in his arms, filled his senses with meaning for his life.

She fed them, filled them in on the news. His last hope that Bolivia might not be necessary slipped away. He'd wondered, before, if he could go without her, but he couldn't stand losing her again, not now. He followed her out on the porch and made his awkward pitch for her to come with them. His heart beat a little quicker when she said “The only excitement I've known is right here with me now.” When she went in, he studied Butch for a moment, who was looking off into the distance. It struck the Kid now that Butch seemed a dang lot like he'd expected it to go this way, and had steered him towards it, although he couldn't put his finger on how. Well, thinking was what Butch was good at, so who was he to complain if the man had foreseen it right?

When he followed her in, when he might otherwise have pulled her alone towards the bedroom, he hugged her  
and raised an eyebrow at Butch. The other man picked up on the cue and slipped around her far side. They exchanged a look, and each started in licking one of Etta's ears.

Etta squirmed, and about melted into a puddle. She looked at one, then the other of them. "You good with this,  
Sundance?" she asked quietly.

"We go together, I figure we're together. If you want us to be." He scuffed the floor with the toe of his boot, and had  
to try a couple of times before he could meet her eye.

Etta cocked her head and squinted one eye. “No, there's more... What else should I know about?”

Butch squeezed her hand, walked around to Sundance and kissed him, full on the lips, and unmistakably with tongue. They turned back and looked at her intently.

She bit her lip. The only sound was the sputter and hiss of the fireplace.

“You two... are just gorgeous together.”

Sundance let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Yeah. I'd say we're together." Etta's face split into a grin. “I can't imagine two people I'd rather be together with.”  
The three-way hug turned into a three-way kiss, and then some three-way stripping off of clothes, followed by a lot of celebrating their not having died, and all the things that being alive made it possible to do. Etta took in stride the demonstration of the male side of the triangle, explaining something suspiciously educational-sounding about the ancient Greeks, which Sundance didn't totally follow, but he was relieved to hear that she was no more judgmental about this than about bank robbing. He vaguely remembered that preachers were again both those things, and against men and women getting together without marriage for that matter, and was very glad that Etta had no truck with such notions of morality. Dawn found them exhausted in a puppy pile, having finally accepted that some combinations and positions would have to be saved for another day. They roused a couple of hours later, groggy, and packed hurriedly. And if they look exhausted when they got on the stage, well, no one happened to mention it.

 

“We'll have to travel fairly cheap,” Butch had warned Etta. “No frills.”

“Not exactly.” Her eyes smiled and she bit her finger to keep from laughing. “I've been looking out for you two. I know how the money disappears fast. I've been making sure some of it disappears under the mattress each time. I mean, I'd hardly trust putting it in the bank.” She did laugh then, and Butch chased her, and Sundance just stood to one side and smiled and shook his head.

The trip to New York was long and boring. Well, it would have been boring, if not for the fact that Etta's head was still in a spin about having two handsome suitors and getting to watch them with each other. She ripped the stitches out of the pockets of her traveling dress, making it much easier to engage in secretive groping while looking quite proper. The feel of Butch's fingers seeking in and finding her secret places, tracing the edges of her labia, set her insides a-quiver. A discreet travel blanket shared with Sundance, and she could pass on the favor, opening his fly and stroking his hardness, while he tried to keep a straight face for the conductors and fellow passengers who somehow always seemed to be up and wandering around. Other times she was at the window, enjoying watching their sleight of hand maneuvers to make brushing contact when no one else was looking. The sleeping quarters were tiny bunks, but a little contortionism allowed them all to fit where she could watch Butch, on his back, suck off the Kid kneeling above him. Shortly, she was too worked up to hold back, needed something to fill her emptiness, and climbed on to ride Butch, still sucking, until the three of them came within minutes of each other, winding up in a sticky, happy heap.

After several days, they arrived at New York with ten days to kill before the steamship sailed. She wished, much  
later, that they had stayed in New York. Surely there was intellectual work there for Butch, and she could have taught. She was less sure about Sundance, but he would have found something, for them, and perhaps there they could have gone straight, and lived out their years until they sat, grey-haired, laughing, on park benches, reminiscing about the old days.

At the time though, they kept up a whirlwind pace, cramming in as much as they could before the trip to Bolivia, surely a land of riches and safety to exceed any in America. She had never seen such tall buildings as here, such crowded streets. It seemed an auspicious start to the beginning of their new life, which held such promise.  
Boating, touring the city, the trip to Coney Island. After the swimming, they took her to the carnival. It was the only place in New York City where they could have worked on her shooting, pretending it was just a game. First Sundance, then Butch, snggled close against her back to demonstrate the stance, the hold of the gun, until she could knock the tin ducks off with each shot.

The hotel probably thought them cheap to share a room, but it was sheer luxury to have so much space to explore  
their new found possibilities. She talked Sundance into initiating her into the pleasures of anal sex, with Butch holding her hand and coaxing her through the tricky first entry. She knew it took considerable restraint to hold still and wait for her to adjust to the size and feel of the intrusion inside her, but once she was ready to move, she was found it more stimulating than regular sex. The tingle and throb of her nether passage, and the rear stroking of her clitoral sponge, set off a building energy that took her over an edge more precipitous than she had experienced before. Conveniently, it also meant an alternative to abstaining on the days most likely to be ovulation; their lifestyle was not exactly conducive to raising a family, after all.

When they came down to only a few days left, her thoughts turned to capturing this time, commemorating it. For Sundance, she purchased a gold pocket watch with an engraving of a train sketched on the cover, and for Butch, a slim leather-bound copy of Leaves of Grass, trim enough to fit in a pocket. They had both on them when they died, although she would not have wanted to know that.

They had a group platinotype taken. She most loved the one with Butch looking up at Sundance. Years later, after she had had to leave them because she couldn't stand to stay and see them die, when she taught quietly and bothered no one, she put that picture up on the wall of her small apartment. She cried a lot that first year, but it was better than not crying, so she kept the picture out.

That was much later, though, and for now, she was safe in their circle of love, and hopeful for the future. She watched the men together, and thought that she had never expected to be this happy in her life.


End file.
